Like A Forgotten Ghost
by sbyamibakura
Summary: Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, set in current storyline as of this posting. He HAD lost things, things that couldn't be so easily replaced and seeing them, or echoes of what once was, only served to both piss him off and to feel the resentment at Seth burning in his throat. 'You threw everything away. We had...it was everything. We WERE.'


Like A Forgotten Ghost

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: WWE, the storylines in WWE, the wrestlers and the characters they portray are property of themselves and WWE. I only own this story and make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated T for language, etc.

Pairing: Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins.

Setting: somewhere around the current storyline, after Braun Stroman shows up.

Summary: He _had_ lost things, things that couldn't be so easily replaced and seeing them, or echoes of what once was, only served to both piss him off and to feel the resentment at Seth burning in his throat. _You threw everything away. We had...it was everything. We_ _ **were**_ _._

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It had been a long time since they had run into one another accidentally.

He sees the surprise on his own face mirrored on Seth's as they bump, very nearly literally, into one another. With all the shit going on with the Wyatt's you'd have thought that Dean forgot about Seth. But old wounds don't close so easily, especially as large a one as Seth had made, had dug in and made even worse. And Dean was slow to forget anything; it was the small things that fucked you over in the end and he had forgotten that, to his own detriment. Had gotten close to people, despite himself.

The surprise is brief, as is another look that Dean is too tired to decipher quickly before it leaves Seth's face, replaced by wariness.

"I'm not in the mood for this, Ambrose," Seth warns. "But I will if you push."

"Damn, Seth." Dean shoots back, piling a smile on his face. "I didn't even say anything yet, but you keep on and I _will_ push. You know me."

Seth merely shakes his head, starting to turn away from Dean. "If _that's_ all you can drudge up then I guess you've lost more than I thought you have."

Dean grabs onto Seth's arm without thinking, instantly making Seth tense and Dean curse under his breath.

"Ambrose-"

Dean lets go as if stung, and yeah maybe he was, but he would never give Seth the satisfaction of showing it. Not again.

"Right." he says a little hoarsely. He clears his throat. "Right."

He turns away from Seth and quickly heads off in the opposite direction before Seth can reply anything back. He _had_ lost things, things that couldn't be so easily replaced and seeing them, or echoes of what once was, only served to both piss him off and to feel the resentment at Seth burning in his throat. _You threw everything away. We had...it was everything. We_ _ **were**_ _._

He shakes his head, determinedly banishing every Seth related thought from his head-which wasn't as easy as he hoped both from Seth's still slight proximity as well as himself unable to keep from thinking about things he couldn't change no matter much he wanted to-and heads to the locker room he and Roman had taken over in this arena. They wouldn't be here much longer, of course, as Smackdown had ended and only stragglers were left getting things ready so they could head on the road to head to the next town for the next house show.

Which made him wonder why Seth was still here, when he should have been the first to go.

Back not so long ago, they all would leave quickly after doing their bits, whether wrestling or in promo. They didn't exactly inspire confidence and friendship in the locker room back then after all, so people were never eager for them to stay. Things might be a _bit_ different now, but that didn't change the fact that _he_ still cared little for the people in the locker room, even less now after The Incident.

He had been proven right by many that he couldn't trust them. Even now, with people who seemed like good allies, all he could see were liabilities. Other than Roman, of course. He didn't fall into those lines, despite how much Dean thought he might be, like their other wayward Brother. But no, he had stuck through with Dean through everything, _everything_ , and he couldn't ever begin to tell Roman just what that gesture meant to him. But Roman knew. He knew that the other man did. Roman knew him better than anybody, save one of course. He was one of the few people who he had ever allowed near him. Had ever gave that fragile bond of trust to.

He had been the only one to not ever break it.

So for him to help Roman out? Wasn't even a thing. Family did that for one another. _Real_ family did that for each other. And despite how much he had tried to distance himself months back, after The Incident, Roman hadn't let him. He had given him some _space_ , but he had also reminded Dean, sometimes not even in words but gestures, that he wasn't going anywhere.

To have that meant a lot to someone like Dean Ambrose. A guy like him who had come from literally nothing, who had always been told he would _be_ nothing, that that would be his only station in life, to either die from drugs, alcohol, or possibly even turning tricks like a lot of hard up people did in the harder parts of the city. _That_ was something they wouldn't tell you in the travel brochure, that's for sure, but it was something he saw every day.

So for him to find two people who actually gave a shit? For him to finally be willing to extend that hand of friendship? He couldn't put it into words. Which was why Seth's betrayal had hurt all the worse. But he'd suck it up and deal with it, as he always had whenever dealt a shitty hand in life. Really, it was his fault for actually expecting he could have something better.

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"Black sheep, huh..." Roman trails off, musing, shaking his head. The new addition, or was it old? Apparently he was known by Abigail or something. Whatever. Either way, he was causing a lot of problems for them both.

"He's a piece of shit, is what he is," he says, after Roman stops talking. The Samoan turns to look at him. "And yeah, he's a big son of a bitch, but we've dealt with those before. Not the first time, ain't gonna be the last."

"Yeah." Roman rumbles, agreeing. He moves some hair away from his face before finally deciding to sit down like Dean was. He had been pacing the past few minutes and Dean didn't _mind_ it, but it was usually _his_ thing so it was a bit disconcerting to see Roman doing it instead of him. He rarely ever paced around. One of the few instances he could remember was after The Incident. He paced and Dean sat there unable to say or do much of anything, the pain of Seth's betrayal more impactful and hurtful than all of the chair shots of the Raw or all of the crazy spots the night before during the PPV. "You're right."

"I always am," he says, putting on a grin he didn't quite feel but knew would make Roman feel better. They always did that sort of thing for one another. He was right. Roman manages a smile back at Dean and the look gives him a warm sort of feeling that settles in his belly. Not _that_ sort of feeling, though there was no denying Roman's good looks of course (he wasn't _blind_ ), but neither of them saw each other in that way. What they were to each other-what once _three_ of them had all been-was something that couldn't quite be put into words. Brother was a good word and it was the closest thing, but it was more than that. Their bond was unbreakable, unshakeable. Nothing from the outside could break them apart.

Only something from within had been able to do it.

Roman rolls his eyes at Dean's words but he doesn't say anything to rebuke him, merely smiles further. They stay in a companiable silence for a brief time, both thinking over the major problem at hand, which was nice as it helped keep him from thinking about the other Problem he didn't want to think about.

"So, anything?" he says suddenly, breaking the silence.

Roman is silent still for another moment before finally looking back over at Dean.

"They have the numbers on us." Roman finally says, as if reluctant to talk (which was funny because it was just the two of them and he didn't hold back from the other man.)

"Yeah..." Dean says slowly, dragging the word out and looking at Roman funnily. "Not the first time for that either. We've dealt with shitty odds before."

Roman shakes his head. "I know. I know that, but..." he pauses again. "this is different, Dean. You know it is. That guy isn't just a big guy, he's a serious problem. We're-we need some help." He closes his eyes after saying this, as if not wanting to look Dean in the face.

Dean continues to sit on the edge of his bed, digesting the words Roman had just spoken and wondering why words like that would bother him so much. Eventually he stiffens, feeling himself go cold for a moment before a flame burns deep into his chest. He jumps up.

"Are you fucking _shitting_ me?" he hisses. "After what-after _everything_. How in the fucking hell could you even-"

"I know," Roman says miserably. "I feel like the biggest shit for even _hinting_ at it. But you know as well as I do, that we really _do_ need help. I'd take a bullet for you in a heartbeat, Dean, you _know_ that, but this isn't a bullet; this is a train coming full force at us _both_ and as much as I want to-and as much as it fucking _kills_ me-I can't protect you from this. I can't even protect myself for this. Wyatt wanted into our heads, well, he's done it."

"I'll take a thousand beatings before I ever, _ever_ , fucking talk to him. You really think he gives two shits about us, Ro? He _left_. He has no need for us anymore. He saw to that. I know that better than fucking anybody. Jesus, Roman, even someone like _Cena_ would be better than him. "

Roman winces, obviously more at Dean's words than his tone.

"At least it'd make sense why he'd want to help us, since Seth fucked up his nose. Seth, really?" He was on a rant now, unable to stop himself, moving and gesturing (many of them not so friendly.) " _Seth_?"

"I know. Shit, I _do_ know," Roman says, rubbing at his face tiredly. They both hadn't gotten much sleep lately. "Forget I said anything. I..forgot."

"You forgot." Dean says flatly.

Roman looks at him now, a little more fire in his eyes. "Yes. I forgot." he repeats. "I know...we've both done the same."

Dean stiffens again. It wasn't something they talked about, figuring it best if they tried to ignore it had even happened. He had forgotten, a few times, and it had been an even bigger twist in his heart once he realized what he said. It killed them both, he knew it did. Maybe he was built wrong, maybe they were _both_ built wrong, but as much as he had destroyed them both, in so many different ways, fact was they couldn't move past Seth Rollins. He was...despite everything, as much as it hurt them, as much as Dean railed against it, as much as he denied it, to them he was still family, a Brother, even if he had never meant any of the things back then, to them he still meant more than he knew either of them wanted to feel-because it hurt too much to.

"He doesn't care," Dean says finally, voice raspy. "Hell we've seen that first hand, not even counting those chair shots. Just look at what me and him went through not so long ago."

Roman nods, looking miserable again (and making Dean feel even worse.) "I know. I just-" He shakes his head, frustration lacing his voice thoroughly. "I don't want it to be like this any more." He wasn't talking about the Wyatt situation, Dean knew, though that'd seem like the most obvious thing considering what they were currently going through and dealing with.

"I know. Shitty, huh?"

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Next he sees him, it's out in the very back of the arena they were at, where the wrestlers, or people associated with, left in cars. He watches without expression as Seth waves at Triple-H as he enters a nice looking car, saying something to him that Dean couldn't hear from where he was at, and watches him until the car is out of sight.

Seth stays in one spot for a moment, and Dean thinks he sees something change in his face but it's gone in a blink before he can register if it was actually anything at all, before starting to move away. It takes a couple of minutes as he walks before he finally seems to feel eyes on him and turns just in the direction Dean was sitting at, sitting on a couple of stacked boxes that were probably something the crew needed and something Dean didn't give a shit about if they did or didn't.

It's quiet as they stare at one another, thoughts seemingly racing through Seth's eyes and thoughts _certainly_ racing through Dean's.

"You _do_ know those things'll kill you right?" Seth finally says, pointing at the cigarette Dean had been holding loosely in a hand.

Dean smirks slightly, taking a deep drag before letting out the smoke slowly in Seth's direction, causing Seth to glare at him and wave the smoke away as best he can. He hadn't often smoked as of late or for awhile, actually; he could still remember Seth's chastising him back then about needing to stop and him not caring, until the day he actually _did_ care, realizing that if he wanted to keep wrestling people like Seth then not smoking the things would keep him around longer (probably.) Since that moment he had only ever pulled out a smoke when things had been _really_ bad; he had thought for a moment he'd choke on the smoke when he took his first hit in months, after Seth had taken the time to take a chair to both his and Roman's backs.

"Aww, Seth, I didn't know you cared!" He says sarcastically, taking another drag before flicking what was left of the cigarette away, blowing the smoke out slowly just to annoy Seth further. "That touches the warm fuzzies, let me tell you."

"Shut up, Ambrose." Seth says, without missing a beat.

"Make me, sweetheart." Dean says sweetly, smiling. "God knows I could do with the picture of you in front of me with a black eye or two."

"Not even on your best day, Ambrose," Seth says, adding the smirk that made Dean want to punch something (preferably him.) "And I've seen your best day, as shitty as it is."

He jumps off the boxes and stalks in Seth's direction, a little surprised the man doesn't decide to flee like the coward he was. His smile turns into a smirk as Seth actually takes a step back. He sees him tense, and then feels it as he puts his arms around Seth's neck.

"You haven't seen _anything_ , Seth." he breathes. " _Nothing_. Give me a reason, Seth. _One_."

"Back off!" Seth hisses between his teeth. He finally starts to try and push Dean away, which surprises him as he expected him to react immediately as soon as he got near. "Get the hell away from me, Ambrose."

"What? Cat got your tongue, Seth? Can't even say my fucking _name_ anymore?"

"I said get the hell away from me!" Seth fights back harder now, but Dean holds firm and manages to keep him in place. "God _damnit_ , Dean-"

His mouth is over Seth's before he can say another word and it surprises him as much as it surprises Seth. He can feel the shock in the man's body, his body stiffening. He pulls back and the expression in Seth's face pulls him in directions he can't even begin to decipher within himself. He moves forward, kissing Seth again, unable to help himself. The shock of the situation had been enough that when he feels Seth kiss him back almost desperately he very nearly comes undone. His hands move from Seth's neck to cup his face, showing a tenderness that was very nearly comical when you compared it to the violence they had shown each other for months now.

Seth's hands are claws at his back, pulling and grabbing for any extra pull and he moves closer to give Seth what he wants, revelling in the sound Seth makes deep in his throat, soaking it all in with his kiss, his mouth wet and warm against Seth's, finally pulling away only so they could both catch their breath, the trail of saliva between them only egging him on further, brain saying _more, more_ in a vicious cycle.

They stand like that for a moment and it's in that moment that Dean feels fear for the first time in a long time. The situation, moment, whatever it was, if it ended now, what would that mean for after? He starts to speak, unable for the first time in a very long time to find the words.

"No-" Whatever he was going to say gets lost to them both as Seth is the one who pulls forward this time to initiate the kiss, hand on the back of Dean's neck as he kisses him hard now and Dean shakes with this, feeling all the pent-up _thing_ it was, feeling Seth's desperation(mixed liberally with his own), shaking as Seth all but tries to pull him into himself, shaking as they both hold onto whatever the moment was with such desperation, knowing that as soon as they couldn't, the memories would be there, the scars (both physical and mental) and they would both be back to who they were, not the Dean and Seth of now, but of Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins and the clang of that chair shot would echo in both of their ears again. Their mouths both move in a smooth glide against one another, their tongues wage war on one another but neither Seth nor Dean tried to find a winner. It was all about this time, this moment, and they clung to it with everything they had.

But eventually the need for air wins out and they are both forced to pull away. Their breaths are both loud in the sudden silence, with Dean finally putting his forehead against Seth's. He feels Seth tense for a moment, but amazingly enough he doesn't say anything. He coughs against a dry throat.

"Seth-"

" _No_." Seth repeats.

"Seth." he whispers now, unable to help himself. Still, even saying it softly still causes Seth to moan under his breath.

"Stop." Seth hisses. "Just... _stop_. _You're unmaking me, Dean._ Do you understand?"

He stops, but his grip tightens on Seth now. The words lay like poison on his tongue and he hates it, hates the situation, hates Seth, hates himself, hates everything that lies unsaid.

His eyes close as Seth moves his head back to kiss Dean on the forehead and what kind of ass was he, how pathetic was he that even something that small felt like everything? His eyes stay closed as Seth moves away, until he hears the final steps of the other man leave the area. Then he too leaves, unable to linger in that place any longer, leaving the remains of the cigarette smouldering away on the cold ground unnoticed and unwanted.

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He is uncharacteristically silent when he enters the hotel room and Roman starts to point this out, but immediately stops short when he sees the look in Dean's eyes. He's seen it only a few times and knows instantly the reason. Last time he saw it, Dean had been through the ringer-the understatement of the century-against Seth in a PPV match for the title. After the match Dean had been... _wrecked_. In body, yes, certainly, but no, it was the mind that had been wrecked more than anything else. All of this stuff with Seth did no favors for either of them, but Roman knew that it affected Dean more than any of them.

He doesn't speak, knowing it was smarter not to at the moment, but instead is quickly off the bed and in a couple quick strides has Dean in his arms in the biggest hug he can manage. He can feel Dean shaking underneath the initial tensing he first does. He ignores all of that, ignores Dean's hands like claws, digging in, and instead gives him all the comfort he can manage.

His heart fills to bursting, it was just the kind of person he was, filled with love for him, for Dean his one and only Brother left. Them against the world. That was true more than ever. Even if no one else had their back, he could at least have the comfort of knowing that they had each others. Once it had been more, and he thought of those days more often than he'd ever admit to, but he would never look a gift horse in the mouth with what he had now. He had Dean and Dean had him. Brothers.

 _Little Brother_. His heart swells with fondness for his aforementioned, somehow, someway became little Brother.

They stand like that, silent, for a few minutes before Dean finally coughs slightly and releases Roman. He scratches his head a bit and jerks his head at the direction of the shower. "Think I'm gonna get one, unless you wanna go first...?"

Roman shakes his head and gestures at the door. "Nah, you go ahead. I'm going to get mine in the morning."

Dean nods and heads off in the direction of the bathroom, bumping a shoulder into Roman as he does so. They know each other very well, so Roman knows what it means. _Thank you_.

He pats Dean on the back as he heads off in return. _Anytime; you know that._

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The next time he sees Seth is on the opposite of a hallway in the back of the next arena they're at. Mercifully there are other people walking to and fro so Dean doesn't have to think of something to say; for once, unable to think of a quick quip or the like to shoot out. His mouth is on fire again, that viscous poison lingering once more, only starting to leave once Seth is out of eyesight.

After that, it is quiet for awhile, in certain ways. He doesn't cross paths with Seth again the whole day, night, or even the next couple of nights doing house shows (often, for the past few months, they'd have a few matches here and there on house shows, but not now.) He's almost grateful for it as much as he finds himself resenting it. This lingering, this _unknown_ , this _thing_ , lying in the middle like this, without a solution one way or another is just serving to make him even _more_ crazy, to feel more paranoid, to feel more alone, to feel smothered, to feel...so many damn things that his body fucking _crawls_ with it and all he wants to do is see Seth and all he wants to do is forget everything.

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Well, he couldn't say he didn't feel sorry for Orton getting beat down by the Wyatt's just for talking to them, but he wasn't surprised. Hell, he sort of even approved for the most part; it was stuff that he could see them, The Shield, doing in the past at some point. Or at least himself.

He blames his thoughts, so many of them dragging him in so many different directions lately that it made his head spin, that someone manages to get the jump on him. But it wasn't Braun Stroman, the Black Sheep of Abigail's flock. Nor was it Luke Harper, Bray's favorite golden boy. It wasn't even Bray himself, to speak some sort of nonsensical rant that Dean still somehow sort of got even though he figured he probably shouldn't have been able to.

It was Seth.

His hand is like a brand on Dean's elbow, burning him, hurting him in ways the Wyatt's hadn't been able to manage in all this time, and never would.

He swallows thickly, trying to speak. Seth pulls him along, wordlessly, and Dean finds himself unable to do anything but let him. If this was some sort of Authority ploy, well he was certainly all _kinds_ of fucked...but he still couldn't pull away.

They finally stop somewhere off to a small side area in the arena they were at (he had lost track long ago of where they were going. He left it up to Roman to remind him where they were; the cities were all starting to blend together.) Seth tugs on him again and he swallows again as the other man opens the door. He stops and he finally looks at Dean now (something he hadn't done since he first surprised Dean moments earlier.) His brows furrow minutely and he tugs at Dean again, turning and walking into the room. The room is dark only seconds before he hears a tug and light floods the room. It was a small storage area, from what he could tell, with a few shelves lining the place, a few odds and ends on them, with a small stepladder and a mop sitting in a bucket.

He looks around some more. "Romantic." he finally manages to say.

Seth lets out an indisernable noise next to him but says nothing further.

He leans against the door, closing it in the process. Look at them. All they had been through, before The Shield, during, and After, and they couldn't even look at each other properly and _talk_. Had to be some kind of cosmic joke or something (maybe he'd punch a few answers out of Stardust later.)

He closes his eyes as the minutes pass, the only sound he can hear the steady hum of the light bulb above them. He was feeling that overwhelming feeling again and he actually jumps as he feels Seth's warm (so warm) hands on the sides of his face, almost as if they were holding his face carefully.

"Seth." he says, eyes still closed.

Seth lets out a sound again. "No." Seth says. "No, don't."

He lets out a ragged laugh. He couldn't help himself. It was all he had left. " _Seth_ -"

Seth's mouth is on his in an instant, the bristly feeling of Seth's beard only making him like it more, loving the difference in contrasts as his mouth moves over Dean's in such utter desperation that he cannot help the keening noise come out of his mouth. His hands clench Seth's shirt and he pulls him closer, opening his mouth further to allow Seth more access to it. He lets Seth win the war of their tongues, hearing Seth's whimper and taking it in to himself, greedily, loving the clean taste of Seth's mouth, like fresh water.

His body tangles with Seth, his mouth tangles with Seth's, and for the first time in ages, he _feels_ something, that tangible intangible thing, like it had never left.

He pulls away his mouth with a soft pop and finally opens his eyes to look at Seth, properly look at him. He looks ravaged, his mouth swollen, his cheeks red, his hair tousled, his eyes bright and all Dean can do is stare at him, to move his hand to touch Seth's mouth, to shudder when Seth kisses it with a gentleness that startles him.

" _You destroyed me_." Dean finally says.

Seth's eyes close and he shudders. "I know."

"You unmade _me_."

"I know."

"You're all I ever think of anymore, do you know that?"

"I know."

"Why do you know, Seth?"

Seth's eyes open and he looks at Dean with an openness that he hadn't seen since That June.

"Because I do too."

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A/N: O_O Er...so. There's this. Honestly, I have no idea where I got this from. *eyes brain* But I personally think it's one of my best works.

Let me know what you think of this! I always love feedback and reviews! :)

I hope you enjoyed this!

-PhoenixJustice


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